


Among the Willows

by R3dWr1t1ngH00d



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Bandits & Outlaws, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bottom Keith (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Keith is a Tease (Voltron), M/M, Rope Bondage, Top Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23614594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R3dWr1t1ngH00d/pseuds/R3dWr1t1ngH00d
Summary: Red Dead Redemption inspired AU. Yay gay cowboys! This is in response to a prompt from a Klance Discord Server.Drought and a gunfight has driven the Death Angels to camp on the outskirts of a town currently occupied and secretly controlled by the Devil's Horsemen, the leaders of which have some bad blood between them.(I'm pretty bad at summaries)
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Mentions of violence, war, and guns throughout. Nothing super explicit, but I just want to cover my bases. Stay safe, y'all. <3 Rating for future sex.

It’d been months since Lance had stepped foot in a town this big, but they were desperate. He tied Azul up to the post outside the General Store and scratched her neck, making a mental note to check out the farrier at some point for a new curry comb and a good hoof pick. 

One of the boys had been hit in a shootout two days before, and without clean bandages and more salve, Lance was worried the bleeding might never stop. Two days and every time the wagon bounced, the man’s leg would just start up ruining the bandages again. It was a simple wound, a small one that Lance had been unable to remove the bullet from, but it didn’t appear to have broken bones. Without decent forceps, however, that round was not going anywhere, but under most circumstances, that’d be okay. He was no doctor, more like a veterinarian by training if he were completely honest. Working cattle as a boy with his father had given him what he thought was a decent understanding of treating wounds and disease. But those were cows. Hunk was a human, and Lance’s best friend. And if he didn’t find something to help, he wasn’t really sure how he was going to face the gang when he got back. 

Spurs clinked and he kept the brim of his hat low as he perused the shelves. This store was busy, all things considered. It was early for there to be this many folks shuffling about. This was new territory for the Death Angels, but it was only a matter of time before word of the gang’s presence made it to town, considering their little tiff the other day. And Azul, beautiful as she was, was a looker, and in apple pie order, which was bound to turn heads and get folks talking. She was recognizable. Not many people owned a blue roan Tobiano. She was a calling card, of sorts, for the Angels on a raid. Between her and Iverson’s pure white stallion, it was no wonder that little local gang was able to spot them on the riverbank. The real question was why they’d opened fire. Lance scoffed. 

Territorial bastards, probably. It was true. Good ground was hard to come by between the damn drought and the law. Outlaws were having to lay low around towns like these just to feed their own. But something about that fight just didn’t seem right. Since Lance had known the man, that was the most unnerved their leader had ever been in a gunfight. It was like he knew something the rest of them didn’t. Like he’d seen a ghost. But nobody could ask. Not without questioning his authority, and that was not a good look for anybody right now. 

The cloth bandages were all the way in the back of the store, next to the sacks and other linen goods. He quickly grabbed more than he hoped he’d actually need and scanned the herbs and tinctures, hoping for anything he could use to prevent blood toxicity. Huffing in frustration, Lance grabbed the best option available, a bottle of whiskey, and made his way to the counter. He emptied his pockets, thankful to find he had more than enough to cover the bill. 

Tipping his white cattleman’s hat in thanks, he gathered his find and made way for his saddle, bumping heavily into someone as they forced their way through the store’s front door. 

“Watch it,” the stranger warned in a gruff voice, shoving Lance harder than he was willing to contest. 

“Pull in yer horns there, partner. Just trying to get back to my girl. No reason to get fussy.” 

Lance quietly sized up the man who’d turned to face him from under the brim of his hat. He wore flashy, black leather, fringed batwing chaps, denim pants, a red cotton shirt and a black vest, with a red bandana tied loose around his neck. His black Gambler hat obscured most of his face from Lance’s view, except for the deep set frown in the man’s mouth. 

“That your blue mare out front?” 

“That’d be the girl, yep. What’s it to ya?” 

“She’s a sour mare. Pins her ears at everybody who walks by. You should stick a feed bag on her when you leave her tied around here. She tried to bite my horse,” he complained to Lance, placing one hand on his hip above one holstered Colt .45. 

Lance peeked out at the bright red chestnut mustang that was openly harassing Azul where they were tied next to each other. He had no doubt the horse was green, maybe four years old if his attitude could age him, and he was hot for Azul, who was not having it. 

“Nah, Azul’s just a good judge of character. She knows a broom-tailed stallion when she sees one. She’s not one to associate with ill-tempered folk, man or beast. She’s a respectable lady, that mare. Your ‘stang’s hotheaded posturing is what got ears pinned at him.” Lance chuckled, shifting the supplies in his arms. 

“I’ll show you broom-tailed,” the man huffed, rolling one sleeve. 

“Outside, boys, or I’m calling the Sheriff,” the shopkeeper warned. 

“I don’t want no trouble,” Lance conceded, raising a palm to both of them. “Lo siento, señor, I’ll be on my way.”

“Way to scare off my customers, Keith,” Lance overheard as he exited the building. He packed his new supplies carefully into his saddlebags and took off towards camp, shooing Keith’s horse as he tried to shove his face up next to Azul’s, who stomped in protest. The mare was more than ready to put space between her and that strutting idiot, though Lance did have to admit it was a good looking horse - well muscled and a nice short back. And he hadn’t seen all the color on his legs from the shop door. Four full stockings made him a fine looking horse, even though his manners were lacking. 

\-----------

“Heard you boys got into it with some ruffians the other day,” the shopkeeper informed Keith, who quickly found and paid for the bullets and flint he needed. Keith checked the shop for other patrons before he leaned threateningly across the counter. 

“Where’d ya hear that I wonder?” 

“You should be careful not to mention your business ‘round the saloon. Seems one of your gentlemen was a little free lipped during a tryst with one of the ladies of the house. You know how they talk.” 

“I do. Thanks for the warning, Rolo. I’ll let Shiro know. We’ll get it under control.” Keith turned to leave the shop. 

“Oh I know you will…”

\----------

Back at the camp, folks were milling about starting in on chores for the day. Iverson stood near the wagon where Lance knew Hunk was resting. 

“Lance, my boy. Find what you needed?”

“Hope so, Sir. How’s he doing?” Lance peeked in to find Hunk sitting upright in the wagon. 

“I’d be better if you’d hurry up with that salve,” the large man grumped with a groan. 

“More energy today, I see,” Lance smiled. “How’s Goldie?” Lance looked around for Hunk’s buckskin mare. After the gunfight she’d been so spooked about Hunk being in the wagon that the rest of the gang was struggling to keep her from bolting. He spotted her grazing near Trigger, Iverson’s own horse. 

“She finally relaxed I think,” Hunk sighed. “Glad that makes one of us. That outlaw on that black horse was a damn good shot for the distance they caught us at. I didn’t get a good look at any of ‘em.” Hunk glanced down where Lance had moved his blanket aside to access his bare leg and took a shaky breath. 

“You’re alright buddy. Relajarse,” Lance soothed, scowling at the amount of blood that had soaked through the bandages he’d just changed the night before. 

“Don’t you relajarse me,” Hunk grumbled. 

Allura would know what to do, Lance lamented in his head. His wife was the steadiest handed field surgeon in the West. A pang of grief struck him to his core that he quickly shook off. Now was not the time for that. 

“I think the bullet is reopening the wound every time it moves around. I need to get it out. Did anyone find those damn forceps from Allura’s old medical kit?” Lance looked to Iverson for an answer, but Kinkade’s approach interrupted them. He held the kit in question. 

“These them?”

“Gracias a dios,” Lance mumbled, taking the tool from him. He looked up at Hunk’s terrified face. “I’m not as skilled as Allura was.”

“Just… just try to make it quick,” Hunk managed, face paling. Lance pulled the whiskey bottle out and opened it, pouring a bit of it over the surgical instrument. He gently removed Hunk’s bandages. Much to his relief, it didn’t look like there was any infection just yet. 

Lance offered Hunk a long pull from the bottle before dousing the wound in whiskey, causing Hunk to hiss at the burning sensation. 

“Here we go,” Lance sighed. 

\------------

“So you gonna explain to me what exactly that was the other day?” Keith sat brooding at a table in the corner of the saloon across from Shiro, who crossed his arm over his chest. 

“Beg your pardon?”

“It seemed like you knew that guy… the leader of that gang we ran into. You went all deadeye on me. What was that all about? Somebody from the war?” 

“Keep your damn voice down,” Shiro growled. “Yeah, from the war. Iverson… Colonel Iverson. He sent me and my unit to die in Confederate territory.”

Keith’s eyes widened. His older brother had served in the Kansas Militia as a Union soldier in the Civil War with Matt Holt, another member of their little band of outlaws. After the war, work was hard to find for an amputee. Disenchanted, to say the least, with the American Government, Matt and Shiro got together and formed their gang: the Devil’s Horsemen. 

“That was him? You mean the battle?”

“He was a big bug with a wobblin’ jaw. He had everybody fooled. We thought he knew what he was doing. He sent us across enemy lines with the promise of backup that n…”

Keith interrupted. 

“Never came. He left you all for dead.”

“Was right about most of us.”

“Adam.”

Pain flashed across Shiro’s face. 

“And that’s when I lost my arm. Bastards found us alive and made sure we survived long enough to interrogate, which meant an amputation for me, damn explosives… We gave them a lot of bad intel, but they believed it. Walked them right into an ambush.”

“Well we stayed far enough away that I don’t think they could recognize us in town,” Keith assured him. “I saw one of them today, pretty sure. He didn’t seem to know me.”

Shiro perked up at this, thankful to have been pulled out of his war flashbacks. 

“Saw a pretty blue paint at the General Store when I went to buy some ammo. A man in a cattleman’s hat was buying bandages and whiskey. Looks like one of us hit one, and they’re close by. They’ll have to hunker down for a while if one of ‘em’s hurt.”

“No kidding,” Shiro contemplated, placing his hand to his chin. 

“They’ll have to come in town for supplies with this drought. There’s no game to be had out there. Not even to speak of the water. River’s too far a ride for folks with a bullet wound.” Keith took a sip of his beer. 

“That’s a good point,” Shiro nodded. “I’m putting you in charge of surveillance. If you see that blue horse again, go out of your way to talk to the fella who owns her. Maybe he’ll give us something to work with.”

“But…”

“I need my best man on it.”

“We exchanged some words at the Store…”

“Keith what have I told you about fighting in town?” Shiro rubbed his face. 

“We didn’t fight. He insulted Red.”

“Well next time, you make sure you’re hospitable to the gentleman.” 

“But I…” Keith scowled under his hat. 

“No buts, brother. Find out where they’re staying and you won’t have to be friends with him for long. Iverson will pay for what he did. Him and anybody who stands in the way.” The older man cast a dejected glare at the floor. 

“Shiro…”


	2. Chapter 2

Several days passed, during which Hunk showed great improvement. Lance had been able to remove the bullet and patch up the wound. He smiled to himself as he watched Hunk limp on a makeshift crutch over to Goldie to give her some attention. Lance lounged in the shade of a nearby tree, putting off heading into town on Iverson’s next errand. 

“You’re awfully happy this morning,” Rommelle observed aloud as she sat down next to him, an in-progress cross-stitch in hand. 

“Just grateful to see Hunk up and moving,” he admitted. “I was pretty worried there for a few days.”

Rommelle nodded. 

“Allura would be proud,” she mumbled after a while. Lance’s face fell. 

“I’ve gotta head to town. Might not be back tonight. Iverson wants me to gather intel on that rival gang.” Lance picked up his hat as he stood. 

“Be careful,” Rommelle sighed. “That mouth of yours can get you into quite a bit of trouble.”

“Don’t I know it,” Lance laughed. “Take it easy, señorita.”

It was hard to talk to Rommelle, sometimes. She and Hunk were the only two who had known Allura. Lance had owned his own stable in the small town where he and Allura moved before the war. After the Confederacy lost, and the soldiers returned from the battle field, no one needed his army-grade horses anymore. They lost the farm. And that’s when Allura got sick. After her burial, Hunk gathered up Lance and Rommelle and took them to meet a man looking for workers. 

Hunk had been a Union cook. He met Iverson at a training camp when he was a soldier. He’d had no idea what Iverson had planned when they walked into that saloon that day. Lost and in need of stability, all three of them signed up for the gang right then and there, and the rest was history. 

With a whistle, Lance beckoned Azul over to him from where she grazed. 

“Let’s go to town, girl.”

She trotted on, eager to please. Azul had always been an obedient horse. Lance hardly ever had to check her for attitude. She was a cattle horse, through and through, with enough cow-sense that Lance didn’t really need to cue her when they drove livestock back in the day. She loved keeping with the oxen pulling the wagon on the trail, which was why Lance didn’t even see the ambush last week when they’d run into those bandits. He’d been on the other side of the wagon, and only just barely made it around to watch Hunk fall off his mare. 

It was late afternoon when he arrived along the main road through the town. Ironton, as he read on the welcome sign that he must’ve missed the other day, was in the middle of its shift from day life to nightlife. The pianist at the saloon was already playing when Lance tugged to check Azul’s quick release knot. Looking around, he recognized a pretty red stallion tied up across the street. 

“Great…” Lance mumbled, brushing dirt from his clothes before he entered the establishment. If there was any place to hear about gang movements, it was the local saloon among any town’s prostitutes. He noticed immediately that this saloon was nestled conveniently between what appeared to be two brothels if the decor was any indication. He bee-lined for the bar as soon as he stepped inside, not wanting to risk bumping into Keith without a beer in his hand. As luck would have it, Keith was also waiting at the bar. 

“You stalkin’ me, stranger?” Keith asked without looking up. 

“Can’t a fella get a drink and some company in a town like this without wild accusations?” Lance placed a quarter on the table, indicating to the barkeep, an older gentleman with a wild red handlebar mustache, to keep them coming. When the bartender started Lance with two mugs, he slid one towards Keith, noting his mug was empty. 

“Plenty of company to be had at this bar,” Keith grumbled, seemingly annoyed as he accepted the drink pushed in his direction. Lance finally got a good look at the man’s face. Sharp features, strong jawline, dark eyebrows, and pretty gray eyes nearly knocked Lance out of his chair. 

“Noted.” Lance offered a hand between them. “Name’s Lance. S’only fair since I overheard the shopkeep gettin’ on to ya the other day as I left, Keith.”

Keith eyed Lance’s hand suspiciously before releasing a breath and turning to shake it. 

“Pleasure,” Keith mumbled. “What’s a man like you doin’ in a Godforsaken dried up mining town like this?”

“Just passing through, really,” Lance lied. “Looking for my next gig. I used to run cattle. Not much cattle moving without water on the ground. Nothing for the herds to eat. What about you? You from around these parts?”

“Pfft hardly. Been here for a while though. It’s not a bad town. Folks are nice. Mind their own business.” Keith picked at the dirt under one of his fingernails as he spoke. 

“Sorry for insulting your horse the other day,” Lance apologized, a sheepish look on his face. “He’s a pretty stud. Azul’s a dominant mare, and she doesn’t have eyes for just any stallion.”

“Red will have to up his game then,” Keith chuckled. 

“Red? Your horse’s name is Red?” Lance tilted his head at Keith. 

“Yeah, why?” Keith bristled, expecting another insult from Lance. 

“Azul is blue in Spanish. They’re both named after colors,” Lance laughed. “Glad we’re similarly simple-minded.” Lance tapped the brim of his hat as he took another drink. 

“Hey!” Keith protested, but smiled despite himself. 

“Calls‘em as I sees’em,” Lance winked. Wow he was laying it on thick. Reign it in, Lance, you didn’t ride into town to get a fist to the face. 

“Oh yeah, what is it you see, then?” Keith leaned slightly into Lance’s space at the bar. Narrowing his eyes, Lance inspected Keith carefully. 

“Frontiersman, for sure. Ain’t a hint of city folk on ya. I see you’re left handed given your holster, which is odd, but to each his own. Yikes! With a knife like that you must be a hunter. What’re ya skinning?! Mountain lions?” Lance’s eyes widened at the long blade strapped to Keith’s right thigh, noting the sheath was strapped backwards to again support his left-handed theory. He looked back up at Keith’s face as the man chuckled. 

“Something like that. Pretty good,” Keith agreed. Lance now noticed the bright red stripe across Keith’s cheekbones. How drunk was this guy? “My turn.”

Much to Lance’s surprise, Keith grabbed his hand and looked at his palm, searching for calluses. 

“Horseman’s hands for sure,” Keith nodded, “so I’ll believe your cattle driver bit for now. Your clothes are rather fancy for a driver. That’s a lot of embroidery.” Keith pointed to the swirling floral pattern that decorated his chest. 

“A friend of mine is gifted with a needle. She’s actually working on a cross-stitch of Azul right now.” 

“A lady friend? You didn’t mention you were traveling with your family,” Keith withdrew his hands immediately, placing them back into his mug. 

“It’s not like that, Rommelle is like a sister to me,” Lance scoffed, almost repulsed by the idea. He’d honestly not even looked at a woman since Allura. 

“So it’s just you and Rommelle then? You left her all alone to come pester strangers at the bar? I haven’t seen you at the Inn. You really left a woman to fend for herself at some little camp in the backwoods?” Keith’s worried expression was almost too exaggerated, but Lance chalked it up to the alcohol. 

“Of course I didn’t. She’s not alone. She’s also not some helpless damsel if you must know.” Lance crossed his arms indignantly. 

“Huh… rough and tumble, then. Sounds like a lady friend of mine. I’ll have to introduce you. So who else are you traveling with?” Keith took a long pull from his mug. 

“Why does that matter?”

“Just curious,” Keith shrugged. 

Lance felt a little uneasy at that. Perhaps he’d already given too much away. 

“Just some work associates. Drivers like me. Nobody important,” Lance laughed. 

“Any doctors?”

“What?”

“It’s just, you were buying bandages the other day. Those aren’t surgeon’s hands.” Keith's mouth lingered near the rim of his mug as his eyes darted back to Lance’s hands. 

“I’m an amateur at best,” Lance admitted. “But we needed to restock. Had a wagon accident on the trip down.”

“Open wound from a wagon accident? That must be pretty bad. Axel snap?”

Lance suddenly got the idea that Keith knew more than he was letting on. 

“Who said anything about an open wound?”

“You were looking for an antiseptic, clearly. Hope the whiskey works out.”

“Y-yeah, me too. I’ll be right back,” Lance excused himself, wanting a chance to get some fresh air and survey the saloon. His eyes darted around the place, but nothing seemed suspicious. There was a card game going on at a nearby table and an unmistakable Madame from one of the brothels chatting up some patrons. He stepped out onto the porch, relieved to see Azul still standing where he’d tied her. 

After a few minutes, Lance heard the saloon doors swing open and closed behind him. 

“I didn’t mean to spook ya,” Keith apologized, coming to lean on the railing next to Lance. 

“It’s fine, it’s just, we’ve been through a lot these last few months. Years, really. And I don’t meet new people very often. So chatting with you in general is strange for me.” Lance did his best to dodge Keith’s steady gaze. “I should really head back to my folks. They’ll get worried if I’m in town all night.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll see you around then,” Keith nodded, tipping his hat. “Thanks for the drink, Lance.”

“No problem. Good night, Keith.”

Lance hopped down off the porch and took Azul by the reigns to turn her around before he swung one leg over the saddle. He walked her out of town, but took off at a canter towards their campsite once he’d passed the last building. If his intuition was any bit trustworthy, Keith was definitely part of that gang. 

\-------------

Cursing his big mouth, Keith saddled up as soon as Lance took the last right on the trail out of town. Red could catch up no problem, but they needed to trail at a safe distance. If he’d been able to keep Lance talking longer, he might not have to follow him all the way back to camp. But that was a missed opportunity. Keith had got caught up in how insanely fun it had been to coax reactions out of the man. He’d been too curious, he knew, but when he guessed things correctly, the way Lance’s face screwed up in surprise was just so entertaining. Cute even, but he wasn’t going to unravel all that right now as he and Red tore through Ironton to track Lance down. 

He got within sight fairly quickly, careful to slow their pace once he was certain it was Lance and Azul ahead of him. Several miles down the road, Lance cut off onto a deer trail into the woods. Worried he’d lost him, Keith urged Red to the mouth of the trail to inspect it. There was no immediate sign of Lance or Azul, so Keith tapped Red’s flank to walk him into the trees. Suddenly, there was a boot in Keith’s face as Lance swung down from a branch and knocked Keith clean out of his saddle. Lance straddled Keith’s hips as they hit the ground, and shoved Keith’s wrists up over his head. Keith was honestly surprised at how strong the man was. 

“You stalkin’ me, stranger?” Lance mocked from above him. 

“Not at all, I…”

“You’re a member of that group that shot at us the other day,” Lance huffed. 

“Well, when you put it like that…” 

“What do you want?” Lance spread his hand so he could hold both of Keith’s wrists while he reached down and pulled Keith’s own blade from its sheath. 

“It’s not about what I want,” Keith panted, struggling to get a good breath in under Lance’s weight after having the air knocked from his lungs, cursing himself for the second time tonight, this time about how much alcohol he’d allowed himself to drink. “My brother’s got beef with Iverson.”

Lance seemed genuinely shocked that Keith knew Iverson’s name. 

“Well you put me in quite the pickle, Keith, ol’ pal. You made it way too close to camp for me to just let ya go. I think Iverson’s gunna want to talk to you, but he probably won’t be nearly as nice as me. It’s a shame, really.”

“I’m not going with you,” Keith asserted, rolling suddenly to flip their positions. He completely forgot Lance had his knife, but Lance didn’t. Somehow, Lance countered his roll with a headlock, and Keith froze when the metal touched his skin just above his collar bone. 

“You don’t have much of a choice, pretty boy,” Lance snorted, certainly impressed by Keith’s persistence. “Slide that pistol over to Red.”

Keith did as he was bid, a sinking feeling weighing down his stomach as his gun came to rest at Red’s hooves. 

“Pretty boy, huh?” Keith chuckled, trying to bide time. He needed an idea, but was fresh out of them with no weapons. 

“Shut your bazoo,” Lance grumbled. He tossed Keith’s knife away from them to reach the lasso Keith already knew was at his hip. He struggled against Lance’s headlock only to be pressed harder into the dirt. “You can either get with the program or I can choke you out.”

“Kinky,” Keith coughed, spitting dirt from his mouth. 

Having had enough of Keith’s sass, Lance shoved his head hard into the ground, moved his own weight to rest squarely on Keith’s back and looped his rope tightly around one wrist. 

“Keep up all that kicking and I’ll have to hog tie you,” Lance sighed. 

“I’d like to see you try-aah!”

In record time, Keith’s wrists and ankles were bound together. 

“I really was a cattle driver,” Lance laughed, shaking his head as he stood up. He picked both of their hats up off the ground and stowed Keith’s in Red’s saddlebag. “Do too much kicking and you’ll fall right off the horse, comprendé amigo?”

A glare from the ground had Lance nearly in tears from laughter. He whistled softly and Azul stepped gently from behind a tree, which would explain why Keith’s idiot horse was still standing there watching him get kidnapped. Lance was able to haul Keith bodily up onto Azul where Lance secured him like a deer carcass after a successful hunting trip. Keith’s own bandana made a convenient blindfold. 

As if Lance had predicted that Keith would try to track their progress through the woods, he spun Azul a few times to disorient Keith, giving him absolutely no chance of remembering which direction they proceeded in. But he tried anyway. And every chance he got, he tugged discreetly on the ropes, but damn those were good knots. After what felt like hours Keith heard what honestly sounded like a turtle dove call out ahead of them. Lance answered with a convincing owl hoot of his own and the sound of someone stumbling towards them met Keith’s ears. 

“You shouldn’t be on lookout,” Lance chided his companion. 

“Lance, what the Hell? Who’s that?”

“This is my buddy Keith,” Lance sighed. Keith felt him shift in the saddle in front of him and nearly yelped when he felt a heavy pat on his thigh, awfully close to his butt. “He’s one of those outlaws who attacked us last week. And he’s here to answer some questions for us.”

“Like Hell I am…”

“He’s also a little drunk, as luck might have it,” Lance laughed. “I don’t actually think I would’ve been able to tie him up otherwise.”

Good to know, Keith thought to himself. 

“That’ll cheer Iverson up for sure,” Lance’s friend agreed. “What’re you gonna do with him until morning?”

“You let me worry about that, Hunk. You need to get off that leg. Go get James to take your spot.” 

“I am not waking Griffin up. I’ll be fine, get on up to camp ya moron.” 

Keith could feel tension between the two of them. That must be who the bandages were for. They were moving again, up a ravine it seemed. Keith was suddenly getting hit in the face with low brush, indicating that they were leaving the woods, or had at least come to a clearing. 

“I’ll untie your feet if you promise to just come with me,” Lance instructed as he dismounted. 

“Like you said, I don’t have much of a choice, so,” Keith shrugged. His wrists were burning under the rope, but he was still buzzed enough not to care. 

As soon as Lance loosened the rope around Keith’s ankles, he kicked out wildly, losing his balance and toppling off the back of Azul. He found that his wrists were still tightly bound as he hit the ground with a thud. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Lance warned, a hint of possibly genuine concern tinging his words. 

“You’re going to kill me, so I don’t see why it matters,” Keith groaned. 

“I’m not going to kill you,” Lance sighed. Keith could imagine the eye roll. “Get up, dumbass.”

Keith stood up blindly, thankful that Azul didn’t seem keen on kicking him, though he was certain he was standing right behind her. 

Lance reeled Keith towards him like he was on a fishing pole. When Lance stopped pulling, Keith felt the tension of the rope drop to the ground and Lance’s hands came up to drop Keith’s bandana back to where it belonged at his throat. Just to check, Keith pulled on his bindings, realizing now that Lance was standing on the rope. 

“So what happens now?”

“Up to you. You can sleep in a bedroll or tied to a tree. Your call.”

As the booze faded, Keith’s head was beginning to pound, likely in no small part due to being kicked in the face. He knew which option would give him more energy to escape in the morning. 

“I hate you,” Keith huffed. In defeat, he stepped closer to Lance to release the tension on the rope. 

“Feeling’s mutual,” Lance grumbled. He led Keith to his own tent and directed him to crawl into Lance’s own cot, taking the bedroll on the floor for himself, but not before tying Keith down tightly to the cot across his chest. 

“Is this really necessary?!” Keith whispered. 

“You know it is,” Lance replied. 

“Yeah, you’re right…” 

For what it was worth, Lance was really good at these knots. Keith found himself unable to even adjust for comfort in the bed, let alone sit up to get out of it. 

“Good night, buddy,” Lance proclaimed as he put out his kerosene lamp. 

“Yeah, whatever.”


	3. Chapter 3

This was not at all what Lance had expected. He replayed the events in his head as he lay on the floor of his tent, peeking over at the man tied up in his cot. Okay first of all, why was he so gorgeous? It was just unfair. Lance felt pretty bad about the bruise blossoming across Keith’s cheek where his boot had made contact last night. But dammit he was following Lance back to camp! What else was he supposed to do? Keith stirred as the temperature under the blankets on the cot was likely getting to be uncomfortable. Lance pulled them down a bit for him, considering there was no way Keith was getting them off himself. 

“Morning, prisoner.”

“Fuck you.”

“I don’t think we have time for that, sweetheart,” Lance winked. The utterly confused expression that crossed Keith’s face was worth it. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”

“I get to eat?”

“Keith, we're’ outlaws not Pinkertons,” Lance laughed. “Of course you get to eat.” 

Keith was fairly certain Shiro would’ve denied Lance food for at least a day to convince him to talk. When Lance untied the rope restraining him to the bed, he was so confused by the concept he forgot he’d planned to try to get away at this exact moment. He sat up slowly, aware of the throbbing at his cheek. He hissed as he raised his hands to touch his face, the rope burn much more painful without the ale on board to dull it. 

“Sorry, that looks like it hurts,” Lance offered. “Stand up.”

He helped Keith to his feet and gently released both hands, obviously taking a stance to tackle Keith if he tried to run while he reorganized the rope. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Keith couldn’t stand it anymore. Matt and Shiro would’ve definitely beaten this guy to an inch of his life by now. Lance let him sleep in his bed. It didn’t make sense. 

“Trust me, you won’t think I’m being nice to you when Iverson gets a hold of ya. But I kind of think this is all just a misunderstanding. Maybe we can work it out, if you can tell your brother to stop shooting willy nilly at our caravan.”

“I told you, it was on purpose,” Keith whispered. “Iverson got my brother’s friends killed in the war. A lot of them. That’s not a grudge he’s just going to give up on.”

“Your brother was in Iverson’s unit?”

“Yes.”

Lance’s eyes widened. Now it all made sense. Iverson had looked like he’d seen a ghost because he thought he had. 

“Yeah, you need to talk to him first thing. Turn around,” Lance instructed. “Gimme your arms.” 

Keith complied begrudgingly, curious about this turn of events. Lance tied the rope tightly around Keith’s elbows, honestly surprised that his arms were that flexible in the first place. 

“There, now you won’t get all the rope rash,” Lance said, proud of himself. 

“I am interested in how you know all these different ways to restrain people with rope,” Keith muttered, casting a concerned glance at Lance. 

“Gotta work with what you’ve got,” Lance shrugged. He opened the tent flap and gestured for Keith to go first. A woman looked up and gasped from her place at the cooking fire in the middle of camp. 

“Lord have Mercy Lance McClain, what did you do?!” She stomped over to them and inspected Keith’s clearly injured face. 

“Rommelle, would’ya just serve the man up some breakfast and let 'er be? I’m handling it.” 

“Who is he? And why’d you punch him?”

“Kicked me,” Keith corrected, much to Rommelle’s dismay. 

“Lance!” 

“Woman, I said let it be!” Lance crossed his arms, accidentally tugging on the rope attached to Keith’s arms. 

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

“What the devil!?” All three of them turned their heads as Iverson made his way across the clearing, his squinty expression scanning the scene in front of him. 

“Sir! I, uh, caught this man following me back to camp last night. He’s, uh…”

Lance was suddenly uncertain of how much he should say. The only thing he knew about Iverson’s unit was that they were all supposedly dead, which was clearly not the case. 

“I’m Takashi Shirogane’s younger brother,” Keith announced angrily, stepping toward Iverson. “And he has not forgiven you for leaving him to die in Confederate territory. And now that I’m here, there’s no way he’ll rest until he kills every last one of you.” 

Rommelle and Lance shared a terrified glance. That was definitely not the story they had heard. At the commotion, the rest of camp was drawn to the cooking fire. 

“That so?” Iverson laughed. “They know where you are?”

Keith remained quiet. 

“That’s what I thought. Good job Lance, you just procured us our bargaining chip with my old second in command.” Iverson turned to Keith. “For what it’s worth, I did think Shiro was dead.”

“You were supposed to back them up!” Keith shouted in his face. 

“Plans changed,” Iverson replied. “It was too late to save them.”

“Obviously not!”

“Look son, I don’t expect you to understand, but I need you to get one thing straight. Every move we made in that war was to win it. We lost a lot of good men to it, I agree. But which flag flies over that little town your gang’s been siphoning money out of, huh? My unit was collateral damage. But we won that war.”

“Those men weren’t just collateral damage. They were Shiro’s family, and they should’ve been yours!”

“This is my family,” Iverson gestured to the assembled group. “Those men were soldiers. They knew the risks.”

“Yeah, kind of like outlaws know the risks, right?” Keith spat. He turned to look at Lance. “You don’t believe that bullshit do you? You think he wouldn’t let you die to save his own skin?”

“I see why you punched him,” Iverson scoffed. 

“Kicked him,” Lance shrugged, but his gaze returned to Keith’s horrified face. 

“Get him some food and get him out of my sight. We’ll give old Shiro a day or two to get a little worried about him and then we’ll strike a deal. I want the town. Whatever assets he’s got in Ironton will be ours, or those soldiers won’t be the last family he loses.” Iverson glared daggers at Keith before he stomped away. Lance and Rommelle quickly prepared bowls for the two of them and Lance took Keith into the woods to wait out Iverson’s fuming. 

“Hate to break it to ya, but with my arms behind my back, you’ll have to feed me,” Keith prompted. Lance rolled his eyes, but acquiesced. “Rommelle makes good oatmeal.”

“She does,” Lance agreed. He was still rather unsettled by Iverson’s tone and Keith’s implication that he’d let them all die to save himself. Keith blew gently on the spoon before Lance lifted it to his lips. 

“Pretty gal, too. You sure you ain’t sweet on her?”

“Positive,” Lance laughed. “She is… was… my wife’s best friend.”

“They get into an argument?” Keith hoped aloud, though he could tell he was wrong. 

“Allura died a few years ago. Consumption.”

“Sorry for your loss,” Keith offered. 

“That’s when I got with this lot. Hunk and Rommelle are the only real family I’ve got left. I thought the rest of them were too, but…” he examined Keith’s face. “I want to talk to Shiro.”

Keith’s face lit up. 

“You can’t come,” Lance corrected him. 

“How are you gonna find him without my help?”

“How’d you figure out I was with Iverson?” Lance challenged. 

“Azul…” Keith admitted. “She’s pretty distinctive.”

“I’ll find Shiro, then,” Lance laughed. 

“They’ll kill your horse,” Keith warned. “Shiro’s good at the prisoner thing. He was tortured as a prisoner of war. He’ll get his information quickly, and be done with you.”

“I’ll get his attention first, without talking to him, then. I’ll take Red.”

“You will not!”

“Keith, I hate to break it to you, but this is kind of your fault, and now I have to get to the bottom of it. I need to know what happened and where my family is safest, and Iverson isn’t going to tell me unless I have some pressure to put on him. I’m taking Red into town tomorrow night.”

“My fault?!” 

“If you had minded your own damn business last night, we wouldn’t be here right now,” Lance pointed out, giving the rope a jerk. 

“Ouch… Hey, Lance I think this position is making me dizzy,” Keith complained. 

“Shit I didn’t think about that. Hang on,” Lance sighed, placing the bowls on a tree stump. As soon as the rope was loose, Keith sprang out of it and scrambled away from Lance. “Goddamn it Keith! Where are you even gonna go?”

“Anywhere that isn’t here, at this point,” Keith spat back, the adrenaline rush clouding his sensibilities. He wished desperately that Red would come if he whistled, like Azul, but that was definitely not going to happen. He had half a mind to run back into the camp to try to set the wagon on fire, but was ultimately too worried someone might shoot him. In the few seconds it took him to decide, Lance had already looped his lasso. 

“We don’t have to do this,” Lance reasoned. “You’ll starve before you find your way back. You have no horse, no supplies, and no weapons.”

“Yet,” Keith corrected. And with that he ran at Lance, taking him to the ground. For the first time he noticed Lance had double holsters. 

“You carry two pistols,” Keith grunted as he reached for one. 

“Ambidextrous,” Lance panted, deflecting his hands. 

“You are full of surprises,” Keith chuckled. “Woah!”

Lance rolled them in a backwards somersault over his own head, coming to land directly on Keith’s stomach. He was cussing Keith so quickly in Spanish, Keith wasn’t sure where each word started or ended. Keith struggled in vain against Lance’s knees pinning his arms. 

“Are you finished?!”

Keith stopped moving, and nodded, out of breath. Lance slowly took pressure off one arm, but had to immediately reapply it when Keith tried to shove him off again. 

“Keith!”

“Okay, okay, I’m done. Can you blame me for trying?”

“A little!”

“How’d you do that?” 

“Do what?” Lance tilted his head in a way that Keith hated that he found to be adorable. 

“You flipped me over your head,” Keith explained. 

“I figured out which way your center of gravity was leaning and I went with it. You can’t win every fight with brute force in the opposite direction. I’d lose pretty handily every time if a lanky guy like me tried to do that.” 

“Fair point,” Keith sighed. “I’ll stop trying to run, but you have to take me with you tomorrow.”

“No! Iverson would know something is up!” Lance whisper shouted. 

“Another fair point. I’ll get away, but leave Red. You’ll take him to hunt me down, pick me up, and then we’ll both go see Shiro.” Keith was sure that one would work. 

“Again, no. Iverson would send the whole posse after you. And if one of them finds you first, they might shoot you.”

“So you don’t want me to get shot?”

“Not particularly, no,” Lance admitted. “I don’t really want anybody to get shot. Don’t get me wrong, I have shot folks, but it’s only ever been in self defense. I prefer using my gun skills for hunting and target shooting. I’m not much for killing people. Maybe that makes me a weak gang member, but Hunk feels the same way. We weren’t meant for this life, but it’s all we got right now.” Lance scratched the back of his head. 

“Lance! Where’d you…? Oh! Sorry! What is going on?” Rommelle covered her face as she came upon the two of them, Lance still straddling Keith’s torso. They both jumped away from each other, realizing the position she’d seen them in. 

“It is not what it looks like,” Lance groaned at her. “Keith was trying to escape, so I stopped him.”

“Well you just let him go!” Rommelle shouted, gesturing at Keith. 

“We talked it out. I’m not gonna try to run anymore. I don’t even know where I am,” Keith admitted. 

“Lance was able to convince you to stay? With logic?” 

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Rommelle,” Lance grumbled, rolling his eyes. 

“Glad I’m allowed to vote at all,” Rommelle grumbled. “Anyway, I’m put off by what Iverson said. Whatever yer plannin’, I’m in.” 

They spent the rest of the morning creating and then dismissing plans to find Shiro. The chief issue seemed to be talking to him without being instantly murdered for kidnapping Keith. They agreed to revisit it later that evening so Iverson wouldn’t get suspicious. In the meantime, Lance had volunteered to ride north to the river to refill canteens and maybe catch some fish. 

“You taking your buddy with you?” Griffin asked over his poker game with Kinkade. 

“I s’pose if you two won’t watch him for me, I’ll have to. Hunk’s in no condition to be chasing down prisoners. So am I or am I not?” Lance crossed his arms. Unsurprisingly, neither of them volunteered to take charge of one incredibly bemused prisoner, who now wore his restraints loosely around his forearms tied in front of him. “C’mon Keith.”

“It’d be quicker if we took two horses,” Keith suggested as they approached Blue. “I know neither of us is super heavy, but it’s a long ride. We’ll tire your mare out if we just take her.” 

“You’re right,” Lance sighed. He discreetly undid Keith’s arm restraints so he could grab Red’s reigns, but re-tied the lasso like harnesses between them. “Ride next to me and we’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, right,” Keith nodded. It was difficult to get onto Red from his off side, but someone had to mount backwards to make this work. Once Lance was sure they were out of sight, he reached into his saddlebag and tossed Keith his own hat and pistol. 

“I’d rather ya not need it and have it, than need it and not have it,” he explained. 

“Fair point,” Keith nodded. He honestly couldn’t believe how much Lance had just trusted him not to turn around and shoot him, but remained silent on the matter. 

“So what’s your story?” Lance asked after a while. 

“Mother died in childbirth with me, father died in a fire when I was little. Shiro is my half-brother; same father, first wife. He’s been taking care of me since I can remember.” Keith paused as they left the woods, realizing he knew exactly where they were. Lance had done a bang up job of disorienting him the last night, but with the facade lifted, he could easily make it back to Ironton if he could get away tonight. At the same time he had the idea, he squashed it. The more he thought about it, the more he really didn’t want to get Lance in trouble. The guy was annoying, sure, and had kidnapped him, but he wasn’t a bad guy. He was actually kind of nice, and definitely a pleasure to look at. Woah, okay there Keith. He’d found men attractive since he could remember being interested in anything even remotely sexual. So the thought didn’t surprise him as much as it probably should have. He let it really bounce around his brain for a moment as they continued their journey to the river. Lance had a lean build, which was definitely the reason Keith had been so surprised at Lance’s strength. But the muscles were definitely there. His hair was a little unkempt under his hat, hanging just low enough to cover the tops of his ears. By far though, Lance’s most striking physical feature was his gorgeous sky blue eyes, that Keith suddenly realized were directed over at him. 

During his mind’s wanderings, Keith didn’t realize Lance had asked him a question. But Lance was looking at him expectantly. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Keith chuckled. 

“I said, are you any good at fishing?” Lance chuckled. 

“To be honest, not at all. I’m too impatient,” Keith admitted. 

“What were you lookin’ at?” Lance wondered, glancing around. 

“I, uh, was just admiring your hat, is all,” Keith lied.

“This old thing? Yeah it’s pretty spiffy,” Lance smiled, pleased with himself and apparently accepting the answer. “Yours suits you,” Lance added after a while.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keith scoffed. 

“I dunno, it just fits yer look. Ties it together.”

Was Lance calling Keith fashionable? Was Keith flattered by it? 

Keith decided not to acknowledge the flutter in his chest. They rode the rest of the way in silence, reaching the river around midday. Lance only had one fishing pole, so he caught a few fish before handing it to Keith, who sat backwards behind where Lance stood, keeping watch. 

“Oh no, I said I’m no good,” Keith insisted. 

“C’mon you can’t be that bad.”

Okay Lance was wrong. Keith could be that bad. The first three times he casted, they had to unhook the fishhook from Lance’s shirt. The fourth time, Lance stepped behind Keith, obliviously wrapping his arms around him to help him fish. Keith shielded a deep blush as Lance’s hands guided him through the cast, and hid further under his hat at Lance’s satisfaction with it. 

“See, you can do it,” Lance laughed as he sat down on the shore to clean and stow the fish he’d already caught. 

“This is the part I hate though. The waiting…” Keith grumbled. 

“I normally sing while I fish to pass the time,” Lance shrugged. 

“Yeah I definitely can’t do that,” Keith laughed. 

Shaking his head, Lance returned to his fish cleaning. Keith was honestly surprised when Lance cleared his throat and began singing. 

“Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me. Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee. Sounds of the rude world heard in the day, led by the moonlight have all passed away…” Lance didn’t look up, but smiled to himself as he worked. “Sueña cariño, mi corazón, se escucha una melodía de amor…” 

The transition was seamless. When Lance switched to Spanish, Keith hardly batted an eye. After a line or two he realized he didn’t know the words anymore, though he’d heard the song a million times. His eyes found Lance on the ground, ears entranced by the foreign but familiar melody. Lance really could sing. Irrevocably distracted, Keith didn’t notice the little tug on the line. When the reel took off spinning, Lance jumped to his feet, interrupted mid-word to grab the pole around Keith’s hands to stop it and yank the line to hook the fish. As if he finally realized how his hands covered Keith’s, he jerked away, recovering with a wide grin. 

“Reel her in, partner!”

Clenched jaw, sweaty palms and all, Keith did as Lance instructed and hauled a giant bass out of the river and onto the rocky shore. It flopped around for a moment before Lance hooked a finger into its mouth and lifted it to unhook it from the line. 

“F’we can get two more, we’ll be golden. We’re makin’ decent time. You wanna cast this one?” Lance handed Keith the small bag of cheese he’d brought along for bait. 

“Uh, sure,” Keith nodded, clumsily poking the cheese into place. He took a breath before squaring his stance to the river and flicking the line the way Lance had just instructed him. It was perfect. 

Lance whistled. 

“Quick learner.”

“I’ve been told that,” Keith smirked. When he noticed Lance’s raised eyebrow, he cleared his throat and schooled his expression. Now was not the time or place for that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Guns and gunfire, hostage situation. <3

They fished well into mid afternoon, catching four more to take back to camp. Lance made a mental note of the spot they’d picked so he could come back to it as he packed the last of the fillets, tossing the spent carcasses into the river. 

“Wanna race back?” Keith suggested as Lance pulled his reigns over Azul’s neck to turn her around. 

Lance narrowed his eyes. 

“Honest to God, I just think it’d be fun,” Keith pursued, palms raised between them. Lance examined him for a moment before sighing and reaching for the rope. 

“We stop at the tree line. Any funny business and I’ll lasso you right off your horse. Got it?”

Keith’s face lit up as he nodded. Having been tied up so long, he was itching to really ride. He and Red conditioned almost every day. It was the only way to run Red’s energy down enough to safely tie him at night. He suspected the only reason the stallion hadn’t caused trouble last night was because of Lance’s pretty blue mare. 

Free of the makeshift harness, both of them stretched before hopping into the saddle. 

“It’s only fair to warn ya,” Keith smirked, “Red really is a Mustang. And I didn’t get the chance to run him yesterday. Hope yer Lady there can keep up.”

“Yeah? And if we can?”

Keith pondered a moment. 

“If I win, you teach me to do that flip you did earlier today when I tried to take your gun.”

Lance nodded. 

“And if I win, I take Red to town tomorrow night.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed. 

“Not happening.”

Lance smirked openly back at Keith. 

“Beat us then.” 

Without a countdown, Lance and Azul tore away from the bank, back in the direction they came from. 

“Lance!” Keith complained with an exaggerated sigh. He tapped Red into motion, though it was hardly necessary with Azul now running away from them. Red and Keith were on Azul’s hocks in seconds. It was a good fifteen minute ride back to the wooded trail that would take them the rest of the way to camp. 

Lance was hyper aware of Azul’s breathing as they made full tilt toward the forest. He didn’t want to overwork her, but she seemed to sense the competition. 

Red trailed behind Azul, his stride even and breathing steady. He had more in him, but Keith wanted to hold onto it until there’d be nothing for Lance to do about it. He carefully guided Red to Azul’s left to avoid clipping her. As the trailhead appeared in line of trunks, Keith took his shot, urging Red faster to overtake Azul. 

Damn, Red was fast. Lance’s jaw dropped as Keith and Red bolted into the lead. Clearing the proposed finish line by half a horse length as they both reigned in and came to a stop at the edge of the woods, all four of them panting a little. 

“Quick horse! That was impressive!” Lance managed. 

“So you’ll teach me that move later?”

“Yeah, yeah, after supper. No need to be a sore winner,” Lance chuckled. He was honestly surprised at Keith’s excitement over it. The rest of the ride was in companionable silence. When they got just outside of lookout distance, Lance tossed his lasso back over Keith’s head and tied it to his saddle horn, for appearance’s sake. 

“Who’s there?” Called Kinkade from behind a tree. 

“Dinner!” Lance shouted back. Kinkade eyed Keith suspiciously as they passed, but said nothing else. 

Romelle was happy for the fresh protein. If she had to make a vegetable stew one more night in a row, she was going to go to town and buy a hog herself. She thanked Lance as he handed her the fish. 

“Keith actually caught most of ‘em after I taught him how to cast,” Lance quietly corrected her with a shrug. 

“It was a good spot,” Keith insisted, holding his hands up as best he could under the light pressure of the lasso. 

“Well, you boys best scram outta here ‘fore Iverson does his rounds. He was steaming at the ears when Griffin told him you took Keith out with you.”

“Well what was I supposed to do with him?” Lance hissed indignantly. 

“Tie him up here, I s’pose. I guess Iverson had wanted to talk to him,” she whispered. Keith’s chin jutted out in protest. “I’ll bring ya some food when it’s cooked. Stay sparse.”

They didn’t hardly get past the tree line before Keith was quietly fuming. 

“As if I’d even talk to him…”

“Keith.”

“He probably woulda beat me up.”

“Keith, hey.”

“And how the blazes were you supposed to leave me here if your buddies up there weren’t gonna watch me? Because trust me, I could get away from them. ‘Specially that James guy.” Keith rolled his eyes. 

Wait a minute. Was Keith upset because Lance was in trouble?

Lance tugged on the rope, which made Keith look up finally. 

“Hey. I’m… I’m glad I didn’t leave ya here. You’re right. He probably would have beat the snot out of you to get Shiro’s hideout out of you. I’m glad you were with me instead.” Lance scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“Lance, what’re you doing with these guys? With any gang at that?”

“Surviving, just like you,” Lance replied. 

“Nah, I like it. I like stealing horses and robbing trains. I like outrunning Pinkertons and hustling poker. I’m good at it,” Keith admitted. “You like to fish, and target shoot, and train your horse to come when you whistle. What are you doing with these guys?” 

“I’m just trying to survive, Keith. It really is that simple.”

“You should get out,” Keith shook his head, the anger giving way to concern. “You and Hunk and Romelle. This ain’t the life for folks like you.”

“Judgmental, don’t ya think,” Lance chuckled, “for someone who keeps ending up on the wrong side of my lasso.”

Keith huffed the smallest sound of amusement. 

“Liking to tie people up doesn’t make you an outlaw.”

Keith smirked, but there was that barest hint of what Lance was nearly certain was interest that he’d swore he heard earlier at the river bank. Keith was flirting with him. He had to be, right? One way to find out. 

“What does it make me then, since you seem to be the expert?” Lance tugged forcefully on the rope, causing Keith to stumble towards him. The surprise on Keith’s face was short lived. When he straightened himself to look again at Lance, closer this time, he wore a roguish grin, almost seeming proud that Lance caught on, and definitely relieved he didn’t seem offended. “And what does liking to be tied up make you?” 

Keith stepped carefully into Lance’s space, bringing his face to one side of Lance’s head, careful to avoid catching their hats to mumble in Lance’s ear. 

“Lucky, I guess.” The puff of hot air against Lance’s neck made him shiver. “Glad that’s cleared up,” Keith continued, taking a step back. 

“What exactly is cleared up?” Lance asked quietly, feeling more than a little exposed. 

“You’re attracted to men. Or at least to me. Which is fine, because I’m attracted to you too.”

“How d’you figure all that?” Lance’s body language was defeated, though his tone turned defensive, but nowhere did it seem like he was denying it. 

“Because if you weren’t at least curious, you would’ve just punched me in the face,” Keith laughed. 

Lance sighed heavily. 

“Keith, I…”

“There you are!” boomed Iverson’s voice from the edge of the clearing. “Lance, my boy, why don’t you take a break from prisoner duty and go grab some food. I’d like to have a word with our friend, here.”

“I don’t mind, sir, he’s really no trouble,” Lance assured Iverson, whose hand was already stretched out to receive the end of the rope. 

“Good, then this should be quick.” Iverson wiggled his fingers in expectation. Lance cast a pleading look over his shoulder at Keith, who bristled as he handed the rope over. 

“I’ll be right back,” Lance said to Iverson, but Keith realized it was clearly a promise to him. 

“No rush, son, I think I can handle him.”

Keith smirked openly at the challenge and Lance knew he’d better hurry. He threw his and Keith’s portions onto the same plate and turned back toward the trees to find his path blocked by Hunk. 

“Romelle filled me in a little. You really took him fishing with you? What were you thinking?” Hunk whispered between them. 

“I brought him back too. He’s not a bad guy, Hunk. Well, no worse’n us anyway. He’s an outlaw, sure, but he’s got morals.”

“He could’ve killed you,” Hunk crossed his arms. 

“But he didn’t,” Lance rebuked, trying to push past his friend. A gunshot pierced the air from the trees behind them. 

Shit. 

Lance handed his plate to Hunk and took off towards the trees, but stopped to avoid running headlong into Keith, who grabbed him and turned him in his arms. From an incredibly brief once over, Lance could see that Keith was bleeding from his head and the bruise on his cheek was irritated anew. And he held his own pistol in his hand. 

Dammit Lance. How’d you forget you gave him his gun back?!

“I didn’t kill him,” Keith assured Lance as he backed up, using Lance’s body as a shield as the rest of the outlaws drew weapons. “He’s probably deaf in his left ear though.”

Iverson came storming out of the woods, hand to a bleeding ear. 

“You son of a bitch, you’re a dead man!”

Lance heard Keith pull back the hammer on his pistol and felt the cool of the barrel pressed to his head. 

“Take one more step, Iverson, and I’ll shoot him!”

The man moved to follow Keith anyway, but Hunk stumbled over to stop him. 

“What’re you doing?! He said don’t come any closer!”

“He won’t do it,” Iverson challenged, trying to shove past Hunk. 

“You don’t know that!”

All the while, Keith backed up towards the horses. When he got to Azul she pinned her ears at Keith, so Lance started talking to her in Spanish to calm her. 

“These horses gun-shy?” Keith whispered. 

“Goldie is,” Lance admitted as Keith exaggeratedly pulled him closer, making it seem as if he’d tried to pull away. “Just shout, sal de aqui,” he whispered back, catching on to Keith’s plan. “They’ll all follow Azul if she takes off.”

“I’ll be taking my leave, folks. Seems y’all don’t appreciate the current arrangement of my face, and I’m not really much a fan of that. I’ll take my buddy here with me and maybe we’ll discuss Ironton’s assets another day.” Keith aimed suddenly at the ground and fired two bullets. There was movement as Goldie ran headlong across the camp. “¡Sal de aqui!” Keith repeated, tapping Azul’s hip just barely with the hot barrel of his gun. Hearing the instruction, she whinnied and followed Goldie across the camp, followed closely by the rest of the horses. All except Red. 

“You little!” Iverson spurred from behind Hunk. 

“Don’t follow me,” Keith chuckled. “Not like you can now.”

Keith slowly backed Red into the tree line so they could take cover to mount. It was quick since Lance was willing to help, and they tore away down the path to the sounds of angry shouts and calls for the horses. 

\------------------------------------------------

Lance clung to Keith, wishing they’d taken the saddle off of Red when they got back. It would be a lot easier to ride behind Keith at this clip if he could get a better grip on Red’s sides with his legs. They got halfway to town before Keith slowed. This close to civilization there was no way Iverson could ride up guns blazing. 

“You alright back there?” Keith offered as they slowed, Red’s breath audible now over the sound of his hooves on the road. 

“For a second I thought you might actually shoot me,” Lance admitted. “What happened?” 

“I wouldn’t tell him what he wanted to know. He started talking with his fists. He got in my face and I pulled my gun. Shot it right next to his ear. That was the opening I needed. I clocked him with the stock and made a run for it. I’m just glad you were the first person I could grab. Though Romelle was a close second. No way was I wrangling your Hunk friend up onto Red. He’s just not big enough for that,” Keith chuckled, patting the stallion’s neck. “This is even a little much for him. Typically we only haul guests on Shiro’s horse, or in a wagon. All of our horses are picked for speed, not strength. Azul is a nice mix.”

“Thanks,” Lance laughed. “So where are we going?”

“You’ll like it, trust me,” Keith promised, pushing Red into a trot. Just before town, Keith hung a left at the fork in the road and made his way around the edge of town to the back of what Lance recognized as the stable. It was away from the epicenter of Ironton enough that Lance was certain nobody had seen them approach. There were double barn doors on the back side of it just like the front. 

“Hey! It’s Keith” Lance heard through the loft window. A few moments later, one of the barn doors opened and they rode through. Lance cleared his throat and sat back as he remembered how tightly he was clinging to Keith’s shirt. 

Nearly every stall had a horse in it. And it seemed like there were people everywhere. There was a wagon in the middle of the barn, apparently being repaired. A gun was on Lance as soon as they were through the door. 

“Easy, Matt, he’s not dangerous.” Keith pulled Red to the side near an empty stall that must’ve been for him. Nextdoor, a giant black horse nickered at Red and tossed his mane. 

“Tell that to his double holsters and your face, Keith,” Matt grumbled, weapon still pointed at Lance. “Where the Hell have you been?”

“I found Iverson,” Keith shrugged as he dismounted. He held Red while Lance scooted forward to use the stirrups to dismount. Keith’s legs were slightly shorter than Lance’s, and Red was a little taller than Azul. The combination of the short stirrups and the farther drop to the ground had Lance tripping off of Red and into Keith, who caught him. 

“Sorry,” Lance huffed quietly. 

“And who’re you?” Matt insisted, stepping into Lance’s space. 

“Back off, Matt, I said he’s harmless. This is Lance,” Keith introduced, pushing Matt’s gun down. 

“How’d you meet him?” Matt continued, holstering his pistol. 

“He, uh, kidnapped me?” Keith explained, stepping between Lance and Matt. “But now we’re even, so… where’s Shiro?”

“Upstairs,” Matt nodded, “at his desk. And he’s worried sick so you better go see him.”

“Right,” Keith nodded. He grabbed Lance’s wrist and tugged him along up the stairs around the tack room, and then up the ladder into the loft. The entire thing had been converted into living space for the gang. Bedrolls, boxes, and other belongings were laid out carefully on the floor. At the end of the loft, there was a small table where a man sat looking over paperwork. He stood as soon as he spotted Keith. 

“Before you start, I’m fine, it was just a fist fight,” Keith cut him off. 

“Well except when I kicked you,” Lance corrected. 

“You must be the blue cowboy,” Shiro guessed, placing his only hand on his hip. Lance noticed now that his right sleeve was cut and tailored to a cuff that stopped mid-bicep. His arm was missing below the elbow. 

“Lance McClain,” he introduced. He flinched as he automatically held out his right hand in a greeting, and switched to his left quickly, an apology on his face. “I wanted to talk to you about Iverson.”

“You’re in his gang,” Shiro observed. He still shook Lance’s hand. Lance was pretty intimidated by the strength of his grip. 

“I… I am. But I’d never heard the story Keith was telling about him. If he’s the kind of man to leave people he’s responsible for behind to die, I don’t want no part in it. My friends Romelle and Hunk feel the same way.”

“Hunk Garrett? No kidding…” Shiro chuckled. “He makes the best camp food.”

“You know Hunk?”

“Only briefly. But yes. He’s a good man. He fed my unit at a training camp before we deployed.” 

As terrifying as Keith had made Shiro out to be, Lance felt oddly at ease. That was, until he forcibly tugged him closer, his hand now crushed in Shiro’s grip. 

“Ow!”

“I’ve never heard of you, though. How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you didn’t just lead Iverson right to me?”

“Shiro…” Keith grumbled.

“Brother, he just told me he kicked you. How are you so sure he’s trustworthy? Where have you even been?”

“Well I was drunk when he kidnapped me,” Keith admitted. Shiro cast an exhausted glance at Keith. “Also he helped me escape.”

Shiro released Lance’s hand, who snatched it away to flex it against the stiffness from Shiro’s death grip. 

“Odd behavior, I’ll give ya that,” Shiro raised a brow. “Why’d you turn on Iverson?”

“Keith said he left your unit to die in the war. If he’d do it to you, why wouldn’t he do it to us?” Lance’s eyes fell to the floor. “I don’t have a whole lot left in this world. Azul, Hunk, Romelle… that’s about it. And if I can’t trust Iverson to keep us safe, then I gotta find the next thing pronto, before it’s too late. But I have to know what happened.”

Shiro shook his head and sighed, returning to his seat at the makeshift desk. He gestured for both of them to take a seat on the straw bale on their side of the table. 

“It was summer in Mississippi. Most of us hadn’t ever been in a place so hot and so humid as the middle of Mississippi in July. We were camped a few hours march from a Confederate military unit that we’d been stalking for weeks. He was waiting for an opportunity to ambush. We were exhausted, but determined to see it through. Iverson got impatient. The longer we waited, the farther north the unit progressed. He didn’t want to let them cross state lines. He promised us a militia out of Kansas was on its way; that they’d be just minutes behind us to help us secure the camp.”

“He lied,” Lance guessed. Shiro shrugged. 

“Maybe he did think reinforcements were close. Maybe he thought we could handle it without help if we were confident enough. He either lied or his intel was bad. Either way, he and a small group of soldiers hung back in order to direct the incoming militia while I took the majority of our men into battle. When we got there, the camp was abandoned, or so it seemed. Dynamite exploded the supply cart I’d taken cover behind,” he explained as he lifted his bicep, “and then the graybacks collapsed on us. We had them in numbers, until the dynamite went off. The shrapnel alone took out six men. I’m not sure how many were wounded by it. But by the time the gunfire died down, me and Matt were the only folks in blue uniforms still breathing. And only barely on my end. They hunkered down, saved my life with a field amputation when they saw I was a lieutenant, kept Matt around honestly as motivation for me, they called him. In the days we were imprisoned at the battle field, not even Iverson came to rescue us.”

“He thought you were dead.”

“He didn’t come to check,” Shiro corrected Lance. “He took the opportunity to retreat. We didn’t see him again until weeks later when we led the Rebs into an ambush he’d set up with a different militia. He didn’t stick around long enough to check for prisoners, either. He had medals to collect.” 

“I’m so sorry, Shiro.” Lance offered. Shiro held up a hand. 

“But don’t let my story convince you. Why don’t you stay here for a few days. Lay low. You too, Keith. We’ll see if he comes to get you. If he does, maybe he really does have a heart. If he doesn’t, he’ll prove it to you too. And your friends.”

Lance cast his eyes to the floor. 

“I don’t want to get anyone hurt. Your business with Iverson is your business. But the rest of ‘em. They have no idea. Just like I didn’t.” 

“That’s a fair request. I’ll do my best to abide, Mr. McClain. But I can’t make promises.” Shiro turned his attention to his brother. “There’s plenty of work to be done around the barn. Stay inside and keep yourselves scarce around customers. People talk ‘round here.”

“No problem,” Keith nodded. “Hope you don’t mind stable work, Lance.”

“Love it, actually,” Lance admitted. “Hey! Maybe I can whistle train Red for ya while I’m here.”

The genuine grin on Lance’s face surprised Shiro, who honestly expected a rival gang member to at least protest barn chores.

Keith perked up at the idea, clearly interested. Remembering Shiro hadn’t seen Azul up close, he smiled over to his brother. “That’s right! Lance is really good with horses. Azul comes right to him with just a whistle.”

An odd expression crossed Shiro’s face then, as his gaze flickered between the two of them. A small smile eventually settled on his face.

“She’s more of a trick pony than you even know, if you’re impressed by that. I’ll have to show you all her moves next time,” Lance laughed. They turned to leave, but Lance stopped short of the ladder. “Thank you Shiro. You, uh, really didn’t have to be so understanding.”

“And I still don’t,” Shiro warned, his eyes narrowing. “You do anything to hurt my little brother, and I’ll tear you to pieces.”

Lance’s eyes widened, as he suddenly remembered his exchange with Keith the last time he had him lassoed. With a little gulp, Lance politely tipped his hat and followed Keith, who was already back at ground level. 

“You wanna pick that half of the barn and I’ll do this half?” Keith led Lance over to where the rakes leaned against a wooden wall. 

“Sounds good. Bet I can beat ya,” Lance challenged, pulling a bucket off a shelf in which to collect manure. 

“Pfft. As if. What are the terms?”

“First one done wins,” Lance shrugged. 

“Prizes?”

“A round at the Saloon. After all this is over, of course.”

“Deal,” Keith chuckled. They shook on it and took off to their designated sides of the aisle, picking through the hay like madmen. Red’s stall was empty, of course, so Keith moved right on to Midnight. The giant black horse had always had a soft spot for Keith it seemed. When Shiro had been at war, Keith spent most days in their barn with Midnight, brushing his mane and working him on a lunge line. He’d never ridden him, mostly because he could never cope with the idea that Shiro might not come back from battle. Fortunately, he’d never have to. 

Three stalls into the competition, Lance had already caught up to Keith’s single stall head start. Though Keith’s own arms burned with the work, Lance seemed unbothered as he filled another bucket-full to run over to the compost pile right behind the barn. As Lance returned and started to let himself into the next stall, Keith chuckled and called out to him. 

“Careful in that one! Matt’s horse shares his attitude! He’s a biter!”

“Matt? Or the horse?” Lance laughed. 

Keith thought for a moment.

“Both, probably!”

Lance was still laughing as he entered the stall, but paused and turned his shoulder to Matt’s horse as the stallion stomped his foot and snorted at the intruder. With interest, Keith stopped to watch the exchange, worried a bit for Lance’s safety as he sidled up to Renegade. Much to Keith’s surprise, Renegade didn’t even pin his ears. The horse took two steps to meet Lance in the center of the stall, sniffed his shoulder, and relaxed back on one leg. 

“You’re joking,” Keith scoffed. 

“What?” Lance reached a hand out and patted Renegade on the shoulder, tapping him lightly to move him to the other side of the stall. 

“That asshole has literally taken a bite out of everyone in this building except Matt and Katie. And he just let you touch him!”

“You just gotta move respectfully,” Lance shrugged. “I let him enter my space, and then I didn’t enter his until he relaxed. You gotta learn the language.”

Keith shook his head in disbelief. 

“They’re sensitive to body position,” Lance explained as he picked the corner of Renegade’s stall. “And if this guy wins every challenge he meets, I don’t want to challenge him. Not if I don’t have a rope or a saddle on him, that is.”

They made eye contact from across the aisle for a moment before Lance smiled and got back to work, quickly picking Renegade’s stall, patting him, and backing out. When it was all said and done, Lance finished a whole stall ahead of Keith, a light sheen of sweat across both their brows. 

“How’d you even…” 

“I used to breed horses,” Lance admitted, smiling sheepishly. “I did this every day for the better part of five years.”

“I thought you were a cattle driver?”

“As a boy,” Lance nodded with a small shrug. 

“Still full of surprises!” Keith crossed his arms and elbowed Lance playfully. They were interrupted by someone shouting about dinner being ready. Keith tipped his hat in that direction and led the way.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Lance sighed as he followed, his gaze lingering on Keith’s form as they meandered toward the smell of cooked rabbit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm TERRIBLE at slow-burn, so I hope that's not what any of you were hoping for by reading this fic :'D   
> This work was supposed to be much shorter than it already is (and i oop), so I apologize if it seems rushed. I am also clearly incapable of writing short Klance pieces.

In order to avoid death glares from Matt, Keith took Lance to one of the empty stalls to eat in peace. They chatted idly about the horses and Lance explained a few more of Azul’s tricks. 

“She can what?”

“Salsa! Azul is a dancer in a horse’s body, I swear. She loves to dance!”

Keith shook his head. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

It was quiet in this corner of the barn. Keith had hung a lamp above them from a rafter that still swung slightly. They could barely hear the faint chatter of the others around the campfire out back, but other than that, there was nothing but the occasional whisper of shuffling hay under hooves. Lance set his bowl aside and pulled his knees up to his chest. 

“Do you think Iverson will come for me?”

“I hardly know the guy,” Keith shrugged. “Based on what Shiro said, not a chance. I think Romelle will though. And Hunk.”

Lance nodded. 

“If I don’t get you back to Azul soon, she’ll never forgive me.”

“You’re definitely right about that one,” Lance smirked. But his face fell a few seconds later. 

“Hey. Wanna teach me that roll?”

“Right now?”

“Sure! What, you got somethin’ better to do?”

“Not at all,” Lance chuckled. They set their bows out of the way and Lance took off his belt and holsters. He didn’t want to risk them getting caught on the stall wall. Keith followed suit and leaned against the far wall to wait for instruction. “Well come at me.”

“You don’t wanna explain it first?”

“I need to do it a time or two to figure out how to do that,” Lance admitted. “I haven’t ever taught someone how to do a roll before. People normally only come to me for horse stuff and bullet wounds.”

“Fair enough,” Keith smirked. He got low, looked for an opening, and quite literally pounced on Lance, who was again taken aback by how strong Keith was. It was an easy takedown, and though he wanted to learn the roll, Keith also kind of wanted to win just one scuffle with Lance since he was on a losing streak so far. He grabbed Lance’s wrists and pulled them high over Lance’s head. When Lance smirked and sent Keith toppling over the top of him, Keith realized his mistake. Lance ended up sitting on Keith’s back with one arm retrained forcibly, but not uncomfortably, behind is back. What Lance lacked in strength he more than made up for in speed and flexibility. 

“Yeah. I literally just try to figure out which way you’re leaning and go with it. Here, com’ere.” Lance laid back down and gestured for Keith to straddle him again. “You were trying to get my hands, so you leaned forward too far.” 

Keith adjusted his weight back towards Lance’s stomach a bit, making him wheeze.

“Sorry,” Keith laughed, sitting up on his knees. 

“I mean, that’s kind of what you want if you’re fighting somebody. Knock the wind out of them and they definitely have the disadvantage.”

“True,” Keith pondered. 

They moved slowly through that exercise a few times, Keith paying close attention to where Lance was grabbing him to restrain him back as soon as their positions were flipped. 

“Okay, now you tackle me,” Keith said after a while. 

Lance nodded and ran at Keith, but taking him to the ground was nearly impossible. On his feet, Keith was agile and strong. Most attempts that Lance made were easily deflected. When Lance gave up and threw his entire body weight at Keith, they finally tumbled down into the straw, Lance landing gracefully on top of Keith, but he was only able to pin one arm under his leg. 

“Aha! That’s how you do it! You get my arms pinned and I have no leverage!”

Lance chuckled, letting his guard back down. 

“Y’know I didn’t even noti-ah!”

With a quick tug at Lance’s shirt and a shove, Keith had Lance pinned securely beneath him, Lance’s wrists gripped tightly in both of his hands and his weight settled squarely on Lance’s stomach.

“Well done,” Lance coughed, letting in a deep breath as Keith shifted up onto his knees.

Maybe it was the lighting, or the way Lance’s hair stuck up in random places from their rough-housing, or perhaps the splatter of freckles Keith noticed as his face came closer to Lance’s this time around, but after they’d spent nearly half an hour wrestling, something in Keith’s brain just snapped. Without a word, Keith leaned down and pressed his lips eagerly to Lance’s, whose protest died in his chest as his hands found their way into Keith’s hair.

When Keith’s sensibilities returned to him, his eyes opened wide and he pulled away from Lance, an apology already forming on his lips. But Lance’s mouth was there to stop it. Lance sat up with Keith’s retreat and brought his hands to either side of Keith’s face, holding him still to continue their kiss. Keith was honestly shocked when Lance’s tongue darted out to graze his bottom lip, but recovered quickly with a tentative lick of his own, earning a quiet whine from the man below him. He was that wound up, huh? For both their sakes, Keith leaned back to take a breath, settling his weight more firmly in Lance’s lap. Much to Keith’s entertainment, Lance hissed through his teeth and hid his face against Keith’s chest. 

“I didn’t realize I had this much of an effect on you,” Keith mumbled next to Lance’s ear. 

“Yeah, it’s confusing, okay?” Lance grumbled, refusing to look at Keith. 

“Hey, you alright?” His voice had lost its teasing tone altogether. Lance allowed himself to peek up at the man in his lap, the hair framing Keith’s face still devastatingly gorgeous in the low light flickering from the lamp. At just the thought, Lance’s heart twisted in guilt. 

“I’m… I, uh, haven’t done this in a really long time,” Lance admitted. “Not since…”

“Your wife?” Keith guessed as Lance’s voice failed him. Uncertain exactly how to comfort him, Keith placed a tentative hand to Lance’s chest. “Do you wanna talk about it? About her?”

Lance’s eyes widened.

“You’d want to hear about her?”

“Don’t see why not. She was important to you.”

In confusion, Lance scowled down into the hay. 

“What’re we doing here, Keith?” There was no disdain in his voice, but Lance’s expression took on a defeated turn at the corners of his mouth. 

“What’dya mean?”

“This. What is this to you?”

“I mean, it’s only been what? A day? Two? This ain’t serious or anything right now…”

Lance nodded. 

“But it could be, maybe, if you’d be open to somethin’ like that. I know it’s not typical, but nobody around here seems to mind my preferences for company.”

“I’m not… I mean, I don’t have more’n the typical reservations about all that,” Lance gesticulated between them. “It’s… I haven’t been with anyone since Allura. I dunno how to explain it. Have you ever been in love with somebody?”

“Admittedly, no.” 

“As good as it can feel, it can hurt just as bad,” Lance started. “And it still hurts. I just… I haven’t really even considered the idea of doing that again. Any part of it. Including, uh, this.”

Keith nodded in understanding, trying not to allow the feeling of rejection to overtake his response. But Lance seemed to pick up on it.

“Please don’t blame yourself. This is definitely a me thing. You are…” Lance paused, again indulging himself if only a little in how pleasant Keith’s features were, even when they were riddled with concern. “Damn, you’re just all-fired gorgeous. I haven’t been taken with anybody like this since Allura. And that’s got me all sorts of balled up.”

A small smile relaxed Keith’s face. 

“You flatter me,” Keith laughed, rolling his eyes. “For what it’s worth, you’re quite the Belvidere yourself.”

Lance’s face heated. 

“What the blazes?!”

Keith suddenly remembered he was sitting in Lance’s lap as Matt’s voice filled the stall. Shiro laughed openly as Keith jumped off of Lance and they both scrambled to stand several feet apart. Shiro and Matt’s approach had been completely undetected while they’d been talking, and now they stood leaning against the stall wall in the aisle. 

“Keith, are you serious?! Him?!” Matt threw his arms in the air. “Of all the people you could show even a lick of interest in, you choose one of Iverson’s boys?!”

“Now, now, Matt, we all know your taste in company at the bed-house. You’re certainly not one to cast stones, now, are ya?” Shiro chided, throwing his elbow into Matt’s side. When Matt took a breath to protest, Shiro silenced him with a raised hand. “Let it be, Holt. Keith can handle himself. We came back here to let you know a woman on a Blue Tobiano rode into town and was asking around about Lance at the Saloon. One of the boys overheard Coran tellin’ her he hadn’t seen ya since last night.”

“Romelle…” Lance sighed, relieved that someone was looking for him. “That makes sense. Hunk can’t really ride right now. You shot him in the leg.”

Shiro sucked on his teeth at that. 

“Sorry about that, but in my defense, it was a long shot and he was in the way of Iverson.”

“We’ll let it go for now,” Lance dismissed, waving one hand. “So what’s the plan?”

“Well that’s the thing… When Curtis realized she was alone and definitely recognized the horse, he led her he-” Shiro’s explanation was cut off by a ruckus at the barn door. Lance recognized Romelle’s voice shouting curses at whoever had her restrained. Lance rushed out of the stall and ran blindly down the aisle to find Romelle kicking her feet wildly away from a giant man who had her held around the waist. Azul swayed in the doorway, ponied to a pretty gray mare that presumably belonged to this Curtis fellow. Lance whistled an all clear to her as he approached, causing Azul and Romelle to relax. 

“Lance!?” Curtis released the woman and she ran for Lance. “He took my gun!” she accused. 

“‘Cause he’s a smart feller,” Lance chuckled into her hair. She clung to him, relief filling both their chests. 

“You’re okay? They didn’t hurt you?”

“Woman, do I look hurt?”

She checked him over briefly, catching a glimpse of Keith, Shiro, and Matt as they made their way to the back of the barn. 

“You sonuva bitch! I trusted you! How dare you!?” 

Now Lance was holding Romelle back, which was honestly a task. Keith held up his hands. 

“He’s in one piece, ain’t he?”

“Your lady friend’s pretty spitfire, there, Mr. McClain,” Shiro chuckled. He passed Keith and held out his left hand to Romelle who recoiled like it was a rattlesnake. “Name’s Shiro.” 

Romelle looked up at Lance before tentatively shaking Shiro’s hand. 

“Romelle,” she grumbled. 

“Welcome to Ironton Stable and Wagon Repair,” he smiled. 

“Repair. Right. You mean steal and resell.”

“Our wagons are variably sourced,” Shiro admitted. “That’s besides the point. What’re you doing in town snooping for my little brother?”

“I was looking for my kidnapped friend,” Romelle answered matter-of-factly. 

“Well ya found him. Now what?” Matt scoffed. 

“We’re going.”

“Not yet, you aren’t,” Shiro corrected. “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to stay here, at least tonight.”

“I beg to differ,” she dissented, crossing her arms. 

“Y’see we’re running a bit of an experiment, and I don’t wanna mix up the results by giving Iverson more of an edge. You’d go back and tell ‘im where Lance is. He wouldn’t have to do any work himself. That’s what he wants. But if he wants his posse back, I want him to come get ya. Then maybe I’ll consider letting bygones be bygones, if he can prove he’s changed.” Shiro looked to Lance, who nodded, much to Romelle’s dismay. 

“You can’t be serious. Lance, this is hair-brained, even for you.”

“I gotta know, Romelle. I gotta know if he was being sincere. I don’t want no part of him if we aren’t important enough to come rescue.” Lance shook his head. “Hunk already took a bullet for him. Who’s to say he wouldn’t use any one of us as shields?”

“Who’s to say your new friends here won’t use us as target practice anyway?” She narrowed her eyes at Shiro. 

“I haven’t a qualm with either one of you,” Shiro assured her. “To be frank, I’d like to get out of the rustlin’ business. That’s sorta what this is,” he gestured to the barn. “I want something more sustainable for my folks. Robbin’ trains and stealin’ wagons can only get you so far.”

Lance took notice of Keith’s exasperated eyeroll. Clearly the brothers were not in agreement on that. 

“We were doin’ great, ‘til Old Iverson showed up,” Matt nodded. “Couldn’t help but try to make right all the wrong he’s done.” 

“With a bullet?” Romelle openly challenged them. It was a quality Lance both loved and hated about her. It got them into a lot more trouble than he ever wanted to be in, but it was also rather admirable. She was not one to back down from a fight. 

“Man’s great equalizer,” Shiro winked. “Death holds no preference or disdain for any of us. Rich or poor, black or white, Confederate foot soldier or Union Admiral… It comes for us all. And in instances where it has been wielded against us, it seems only fair to throw it back, don’t you think?”

“No, actually,” Romelle grumbled. Lance offered her a small smile in reassurance, but she declined. This seemed to completely throw Matt and Shiro, however. 

“I should’ve mentioned,” Keith added from behind them. “Lance and Hunk and Romelle… They’re gang members, sure. But honestly the three of them are just ordinary people. Just trying to survive. You might’ve just wasted your monologue, there,” he chuckled. “They don’t seem to be outlaws the way we’re outlaws.”

“I feel like I should be insulted,” Lance huffed in a tiny laugh.

“Nah, probably not,” Keith shrugged with one shoulder .”I’ll go find y’all some extra bedrolls to set up. If the miss can promise to stay put, there’ll be no reason to tie her up.” Without waiting for a reply, Keith hurried up the ladder to rummage through one of the supply chests stored in the loft. 

“Lance this is madness.”

“Romelle, this is what we have to do.” He gave her a hard look and her shoulders fell. 

“You’re right, but I don’t like it.”

“Tell me about it,” Lance agreed. “Did all the horses make it back to camp?”

Romelle nodded, turning back to Azul. 

“She came right back once I remembered the damn whistle. Seriously, there are so many I was worried I’d signaled her to keep running. We had to track Goldie down of course, but she didn’t go far.”

Lance walked up to his horse and patted her muzzle. He stood close and soothed her for a few moments before untying her lead from the horn of Curtis’ saddle. 

“I’m glad nobody got hurt,” Keith offered as he swung back down to the base of the ladder. Romelle shot him a dirty look, but Keith wasn’t looking at her. The peculiar expression on Keith’s face had suspicion growing in her chest. Keith’s face was soft. Almost fond. She tracked his gaze to where Lance stood talking quietly to Azul. She’d seen that expression before. It was so familiar and yet so foreign on Keith’s face, but it only took Romelle a few moments to recall the first time she’d seen that face directed at the same man. It had been Allura’s expression the day Lance signed on with her father’s driving company, after he’d taken the time to groom Azul, who’d only been a few years old at the time, head to toe before he sat down to his own dinner. She shook her head, but kept her observations to herself. Lance had a way of taming the wildest of beasts, it seemed, and his talents clearly translated across species; from horses and dogs to ranchers’ daughters and outlaws. Lance could stop them in their tracks. And it appeared he’d done it again. 

“You can stable your mare in any open stall,” Shiro offered. “Katie, show the lady to an empty bed roll. Everybody else, as you were. And keep an ear out for Iverson.”

The gathered posse nodded and went about their business. Lance happily led Azul back to the stall where he and Keith had been, uh, wrestling. Removing the saddle, he hung it carefully over the stall wall and reached hopefully into the saddlebag for his hoof pick, relieved it was still there when his fingers found the item at the bottom of the pocket. He hummed as he worked, lifting Azul’s feet gently in turn to scrape the mud and rocks out of the grooves in her bare feet. He was so entrenched in the work, he jumped when he looked up to see Matt staring at him over the wall, leaning on top of the saddle. 

“Can I help you?” Lance grumbled at the intrusion. 

“Leave Keith alone,” Matt demanded. 

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t you play dumb. You know what I’m talkin’ about.” The angrier Matt got, the heavier his Irish accent seemed to get. 

“Keith’s a big boy, I think he can make his own decisions, muchas gracias,” Lance grumbled. 

“Well he doesn’t make the best ones, so I’m interfering on his idiot behalf. Leave ‘im be. He don’t need to be tangled up with the likes of you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a distraction. And maybe you’ve got Shiro and Keith fooled, but I don’t trust ya. You’re a snake in the grass, if you ask me,” Matt hissed. 

“Well I didn’t, so.”

“You little…”

“Relajarse, amigo, you probably don’t have to worry about me, anyway,” Lance smiled. “I’m damaged goods; a widower with not much left but my horse and my two best friends. Why’re you so threatened, anyway? You sweet on Keith, yourself?”

By Matt’s reaction, that was a resounding no. 

“It ain’t like that, the kid’s like my little brother,” Matt growled. “And you ain’t nothin’ but trouble.” 

“You still think I’m just a kid, huh?” Keith interrupted. He stood with crossed arms just a few feet down the aisle from Matt. Lance jumped again, startled that he hadn’t heard Keith walk up. Were these guys cowboys, or ninjas?!

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Matt rolled his eyes. 

“Then lay off, Holt. I can handle myself.” Keith’s eyes narrowed and he tipped his head to dismiss Matt, who stalked away angrily. 

“Don’t you come whinin’ to me when it don’t work out and you end up with a broken heart or a bullet wound, then,” the older man grumbled. 

“I wouldn’t anyway,” Keith muttered under his breath as he took a few more steps toward where Lance stood dumb-founded in the stall with Azul. “Sorry about him.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Lance assured Keith. “He’s suspicious. But who wouldn’t be?”

“Well he’s also particularly rude about it, so, I apologize.”

“That’s… Thanks.” Lance scratched the back of his head awkwardly, uncertain exactly if he should pick up where their last conversation left off. He didn’t have to wait long for Keith to pick up on his hesitation. Dark bangs fell down into Keith’s face as he leaned forward next to Lance’s saddle, a sly smile turning up one side of his face. 

“Before we were interrupted, I seem to recall that you were telling me how stricken you were with me,” Keith winked, earning a small smile from Lance.

“If memory serves, you were actually telling me how handsome you think I am,” Lance corrected him. He cast a shy glance over his shoulder before returning his attention to Azul’s mane. 

“I’ve got a comb in Red’s saddlebag if you want,” Keith offered.

“Nah, that’s okay. I like to do it by hand. You could come help though. It might get you back into Azul’s good graces. I can feel some attitude comin’ off her in your direction,” Lance chuckled. 

“Well, shoot, in that case…” Keith let himself into the stall and came to stand next to Lance, following his lead in gently detangling the knots in Azul’s mane. “See, I didn’t hurt him,” Keith said to Azul as he patted her neck. The horse snorted. 

“She says you’re lucky you didn’t,” Lance laughed. “Está bien, chica. No es malo.”

After a few minutes of content silence between them, Keith glanced over at Lance through his hair in his face. Lance’s eyes seemed to soften any time he looked at Azul, but especially now that he was taking care of her. The tip of his tongue was just barely visible between his lips as he focused on a particularly difficult tangle in Azul’s hair and if that wasn’t the cutest damn thing Keith had ever seen… 

Keith was staring, and if Lance wasn’t so determined not to make eye-contact with the man, he would’ve said something already, but the butterflies in his stomach made it impossible for his brain to form any kind of coherent sentence. The attention from Keith was flattering and heart-wrenching at the same time. He’d never intended to put himself out there like this again. He’d never wanted to look at anyone the same way he’d looked at Allura ever again. But damn it all if Keith wasn’t making it difficult not to think about it. Could he really be happy with someone else? Was there a chance that he could love someone like that again?

Lance hadn’t realized his hands had stilled until Keith slid his own beneath Lance’s hand and interlaced their fingers where they hovered over Azul’s neck. 

“You still with me?” Keith asked quietly, recognizing the far-away look in Lance’s eyes as one he’d seen on Shiro’s face many times. As the moment came back into focus, Lance’s gaze locked on where Keith had intertwined their fingers. Confusion faded to realization, and it was like Keith could see the internal battle as it played out across Lance’s face. Lance nodded, his eyes slowly finding Keith’s face, Lance’s thumb carefully tracing a soul-searing path across the side of Keith’s hand as if he was uncertain it was real. The tears in Lance’s eyes would’ve concerned Keith if Lance’s face weren’t so strangely calm despite their presence. 

“I’m broken, Keith,” Lance warned. “I don’t know how to do this anymore. And I don’t want to get hurt again.”

The magnitude of Lance’s anguish was palpable in the air between them. Keith turned to face Lance, bringing his other hand to Lance’s face as a tear slid down his cheek. 

“You loved her.”

“More than anything,” Lance sniffed.

“Would you do it again? If it was Allura? Would you go back in time and marry her again?”

“Of course I would! Allura was like top shelf whiskey on a cold winter night. She warmed folks from the inside out. She was kind and gentle and she loved Azul…” Before his mind slipped too far away, Lance refocused on Keith’s face. “She was everything to me. Of course I’d marry her again…”

“Even if you knew you’d lose her?” Keith kept his voice even, his tone careful enough that Lance didn’t feel like it was a challenge so much as Keith must be trying to make a point. 

“Especially if I knew I’d lose her… I would’ve married her sooner if I’d known how short our time together would be…” Lance’s eyes fell to the straw beneath their boots. 

“Lance, happiness in this world is a fickle thing. So fickle, in fact, that I’ve never honestly given the idea much mind. And maybe that’s my own flawed thinking at work. I’m more a man of action. My point is, if you’re thankful for the time you had, and you’d do it all over again, it was worth it, right?”

Lance nodded.

“Even though it hurt in the end?”

“Even though it hurt in the end,” Lance agreed.

“So might it be worth another shot? Happiness?”

Lance mulled that over for a few moments. It was solid logic, he couldn’t deny it. 

“Now don’t go mistakin’ it. I’m not promising you happiness. I’m just sayin’ you miss every single shot you don’t take.” Keith offered him a gentle smile. “I also get the idea that Allura would want you to try to be happy, from the way you described her. I don’t think she’d want you to be miserable forever. But maybe that’s an observation for Romelle or Hunk to make.”

An odd expression crossed Lance’s face, but the tears faded, which Keith was grateful for. 

“You’re a big romantic idiot under all that fringed leather and lead,” Lance accused. He laughed as Keith’s face heated.

“Am not,” Keith grumbled, crossing his arms. 

“You are,” Lance insisted. “But that’s okay. Apparently I am too.”

At that, Lance stepped closer to Keith and placed a hand experimentally under his chin, lifted his face, and kissed the small pout off of it. The first gentle kiss turned slowly into a second and a third. The fourth one was a bit more heated as Keith turned his head slightly to invite Lance’s tongue into his mouth. By the fifth one, Keith had shoved Lance back against the barn wall and was tugging at his shirt, untucking it so he could start working on the buttons down the front. Lance chuckled into his mouth.

“Slow down, slow down…”

That earned an impatient groan from Keith, whose mouth latched to the side of Lance’s neck immediately after Lance pulled away to talk. 

“We clearly can’t go more than a few minutes without Shiro or Matt checking in,” Lance huffed. “Don’t get me wrong, I would love to see what you have in mind, but I don’t think we have the ti-mmmmnnh… Keith…” Lance began to lose his resolve, his fingers carding through Keith’s hair and gripping tightly to his shirt. 

Keith’s tongue laved over the place low on Lance’s neck where he’d nipped at his skin. But even as he placed another wet kiss to Lance’s throat, he knew he was right. If they both didn’t go up to their bedrolls, Shiro would come looking for them, especially if Matt mentioned they’d been together the last he knew. He forcibly pulled himself away from the enticing warmth of Lance’s body to look at him. A pitiful whine escaped Lance as Keith caught his breath. 

“Blame yourself,” Keith chuckled. “You’re right. Let’s get upstairs. Shiro will notice if I don’t come to bed.”


End file.
